


A Chapel of Unreason

by Byacolate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the quiet of their thermal blanket encampment, the faint whir of their cogwork seems so much more profound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chapel of Unreason

**Author's Note:**

> Boarding the Genyatta-bundled-up-tight movement. Plotless blanket burrito cuddling is all I know.

He's been here before - bunked down in the meat lockers they call dorms near Volskaya Industries.

 

The last time Genji was stationed in Russia, Zenyatta was hard at work in Africa. Serendipity brings them together for their assignation, Zenyatta likes to say. When Genji asks what divine force parts them, Zenyatta will answer: "Rotten luck."

 

Genji thanks serendipity, then, that they should be together, even in an industrial complex half frozen over.

 

He doesn't feel cold the way he used to; biting chill turned to a dull ache, a nuisance to his joints. He has temperature regulators now for when his own body heat won't suffice. Zenyatta has heating and cooling systems, too, yet still by his own admission, they are somewhat outdated, and were never intended for prolonged exposure to such extreme temperatures. "My body was younger when I lived in the mountains," he has said, rotating several stiffened joints in tandem.

 

Zenyatta is not in the habit of taking a supine position when he powers down. The ruse of sleep, or normality, is entirely for Genji's benefit. Genji supposes he could adopt Zenyatta's meditative pose against a wall to recharge his limbs and systems, but Zenyatta had taken that step first. For that, Genji is grateful.

 

In the dark and the silence of their thermal blanket encampment, the faint whir of their cogwork seems so much more profound.

 

Deep in meditation, Zenyatta pays no mind when Genji splays a hand over his chest. No heart beats beneath - just circuitry and wiring. Gears and electricity.

 

Genji is no philosopher, but he does sometimes wonder where the body houses the soul. (So too does he wonder how a soul could be manufactured to be so radiant as Zenyatta's. He would say, of course, that all souls burned so brightly once nurtured, but Genji would remain skeptical. With respect.)

 

He thinks to ask, to break Zenyatta's meditation if only to hear his voice.

 

"Master," he says. A glow of blue seeps through his closed eyes. "Where is the soul?"

 

Zenyatta's smooth, hard legs shift against Genji's. "Where isn't the soul?" he says. Genji smiles.

 

"You answered with a question."

 

"In its own way, can a question not become an answer?"

 

"You do that on purpose, I think."

 

Zenyatta hums. His amusement buzzes through his body against Genji. "It is a weighty question for so late at night."

 

"Isn't it the perfect time for weighty questions?"

 

"Perfection is subjective," Zenyatta says, "but perhaps you are right." Genji follows the smooth metal joints of his fingers, the wide expanse of his palm. "The true self is without form," Zenyatta says. It's far from the first time Genji has hear this from him, but it has yet to lose its weight.

 

"Are you cold?" Genji asks, though Zenyatta's fingers enfold his before he can tuck the blankets a little tighter around his shoulders.

 

“On the contrary, I am warmed by your concern.”

 

Genji cracks his eyes open. “I do not believe the saying is quite so literal.”

 

“No? A shame.”

 

The blue light dims, and Genji lets his eyes slip closed again.

 

“Are  _ you  _ cold, Genji?” Zenyatta asked not so very much later. 

 

“Freezing,” he answers. “My nose is ice. Ah… what is left of my nose.”

 

“I have been remiss with my own concern if you are not as warm as I.”

 

It’s too cold to properly deflect Zenyatta’s teasing. “Perhaps you should warm me through physical means, then? Master.”

 

“We are in agreement,” Zenyatta says, and pulls the blanket over Genji’s head. The weight of a hand rests atop his head. “Better?”  


 

Genji clears his throat. “That is not exactly what I… yes. It is better. Thank you, Master.”

 

Zenyatta’s hum vibrates through his chest, amused. 

 

“A gracious response.” He lifts the blanket and blue light floods in. “I am teasing you, of course.”

 

“I don’t mind it,” Genji tells him.

 

In the years by his side, Genji has come to learn that Zenyatta is less playful than Genji used to be, but leagues more than Genji is now. For all his wisdom and insight, his brevity was once a surprise. The terrible jokes still can be. 

 

“Then I thank you for humoring me,” Zenyatta says, fondly, fingertips pressed to his bare cheek. Genji leans into the touch, as cold as it is.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Zenyatta laughs in low notes, a baritone bell in the still air of the dorm. Genji grins against his palm. 

 

“I don’t suppose you’re still cold?” Zenyatta says warmly, and Genji’s smile widens. 

 

“Ah, yes. In spite of your concern.”

 

“Hmm.” Zenyatta’s fingers slip down Genji’s neck to his chest. “Perhaps I should try to warm you through different physical means.”

 

Genji lifts himself up on his elbows to hover over the soft blue glow.

 

“Allow me to offer direction.”

 

Zenyatta leans up to tap his forehead to Genji's. 

 

"I would be glad to take it."

**Author's Note:**

> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> Title from Eavan Boland's "New Collected Poems"
> 
> Night:  
> an oratory of dark,  
> a chapel of unreason.
> 
>  
> 
> Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
> Battle.net ID: byacolate#1589


End file.
